Disclaimer: I do not own the characters within, nor am I making any money off of this story. All I own are the twisted ideas floating around in my head.
Notes: Thank you to WyntirRose for betaing this fic. This was written for the tf_rare_pairing comm's August 2011 challenge.
I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when my fear is gone I will turn and face fear's path, and only I will remain. – Dune
One of Hot Spot's favorite things to do in the morning was watch the Aerialbots perform their daily drills. The jets were so effortlessly graceful when they cut and weaved through the air that they just seemed to laugh defiantly at gravity.
If he were truly being honest with himself however, he'd admit his optics were trained on one jet in particular.
Silverbolt didn't engage in the dangerous antics some of his more daredevil brothers enjoyed so much. No, the Concorde was sleek and as quick as the lightning he drew his name from.
Much to his daily disappointment however, they eventually flew off and outpaced Hot Spot's ability to track them as they flew off in formation. Resigning himself to his morning entertainment being over, the Protectobot turned to head back into the Ark when the whine of troubled turbines screamed overhead.
He looked up curiously just in time to see the low flying Concorde stall out midair and start plummeting towards the ground.
"Oh slag!" Hot Spot spat as he transformed and started to race in the direction the Aerialbot was falling towards. Even from below, he could hear the failed sputter of Silverbolt trying to get his engines to unseize to no avail. The jet finally transformed and did his best to steer his midair fall towards the safest and least rocky place to come in for a landing.
Hang on, Silverbolt! I'm coming The Protectobot called over general comms. It could have been his imagination but the gestalt commander could have sworn he heard terrified screaming as the jet plummeted towards the closest body of water he could find.
It was a small seasonal lake funneled down from the mountains above and did little to cushion the Aerialbot's fall as the world exploded in pain around Silverbolt just before everything went black.
Distantly, Hot Spot heard the other Aerialbots come tearing in after their brother and while the Protectobot wasn't privy to the jet's private channel, he could understand their concern and worry all the same. Northwest, three clicks from my location!
Hot Spot readily offered the information to the circling mechs and watched as they dove down on Silverbolt's location. He relayed the situation to the Ark and requested medical assistance. By the time he reached the crash site, all of the Aerialbots save for Slingshot had descended upon Silverbolt and were struggling to pull the unconscious Concorde out of the water.
Transforming, the large fire truck immediately waded into the lake to assist them in dragging Silverbolt onto shore. "First Aid and Ratchet are on their way."
He received weary nods from the obviously stressed jets. It left him feeling all out of sorts and the Protectobot commander awkwardly tried to comfort the shaken Aerialbots. "He'll be okay, don't worry. Ratchet's the best and 'Aid is just as handy with a wrench."
Hot Spot studied the injured Concorde and fought the urge to wince at the battered sight of the jet. His wings were crumbled up like they were made out of tin and judging by the way both of his legs were hanging at wrecked angles, Silverbolt had tried to land feet first and had made a mess of it.
"Can I help, Skydive?"
The most pragmatic of the Aerialbots was already starting to do what he could for Silverbolt's injuries, which was an improvement over Fireflight who was just standing there fighting back quiet sounds of pain or Air Raid who was doing what he could to comfort the Phantom.
"How long until they get here?" Skydive asked tersely without looking up from doing what he could to seal of the major leaks seeping out of his brother's battered chassis.
How long, 'Aid? He's in rough shape and none of us are medics here. That tension carried over the gestalt bond.
We're coming as quickly as we can, Hot Spot. Tell me about the injuries? First Aid reassured his brother and did his best to distract him with the task of relaying the injuries.
Hot Spot did just that and transmitted the visuals and details to his gestaltmate.
He's in stasis lock then? Good, don't try and bring him out of it and don't worry too much about the leaks. Just monitor his systems and keep an eye on the spark readings and we'll be there in two breems. First Aid might be a soft-spark but he still managed to convey calm collection across the gestalt link.
"Right, 'Aid says just leave him be for now. Don't try and bring him out of stasis and just monitor his systems. They'll be here in a couple of breems."
The look Skydive gave him was agonized. He hated feeling helpless and at a loss when his own brothers were hurt and thus understood the Aerialbot's situation all too well. Even with the battlemask, sympathy gleamed in Hot Spot's optics as he carefully wrapped an arm around the F-16's shoulder.
"I know, Skydive, he'll be okay."
That was when the Harrier's distinctive VTOL engines growled from above. Air and dust were whipping around them as Slingshot descended on them and transformed mid-air to land on his two feet before racing towards them. "Is he alright! What happ-"
And that was when he saw the Protectobot. Or more importantly, he saw that Protectobot kneeling by one brother and hugging another. An ugly look twisted his faceplates into a dangerous scowl. "What the frag are you doing here, groundpounder?" he spat angrily.
Surprised and more than a little bit confused at the negative reaction, Hot Spot just stubbornly held onto Skydive who'd gone as stiff as a board under his arm.
"Slings...not now," Air Raid groaned as he snuggled the still sobbing Fireflight closer.
"What the frag is the slagging groundpounder doing here?" the Harrier demanded accusingly.
"Slingshot? Stop it. Not now," Skydive finally stated stonily. "This isn't going to help 'Bolt." Skydive managed a pretty creditable impression of Silverbolt at his stoniest and even the Harrier looked passingly guilty at his immature behavior.
Thankfully, that was about the time Ratchet and First Aid came tearing down the access road and things settled into a chaotic whirl of action.
Knowing he was utterly useless in such situations, Hot Spot faded into the background and let the medics work. The other Aeiralbots, for the most part, followed his lead though the ever contentious Slingshot stood off alone and scowling to himself.
Much to Hot Spot's surprise, Fireflight sidled up to him and gave him a sudden hug. "Thank you for helping 'Bolt," the Phantom mumbled into Hot Spot's chestplates. Something warm and soft flickered through the Protectobot as he wrapped his arms around the jet in a gentle hug.
"You are welcome, Fireflight. Silverbolt is in good hands. Just you wait, he'll be up and about in no time."
Shakily, the sweet jet snuggled deeper into Hot Spot's chassis.
"Come on, 'Flight. Skyfire is going to be here in a few clicks and they're gonna load him up then," Air Raid gently pried his brother away from the fire truck. "Do you want to ride with 'Bolt?"
Nodding mutely, the Phantom squeezed Hot Spot one last time before allowing himself to be drawn away by his brother.
Hot Spot did his best to look reassuring as he watched the two Aerialbots drift back over to where the others were waiting.
Within a few minutes, Skyfire arrived on the scene but discovered the same problem Silverbolt had in being unable to find a suitable landing site. Eventually however, they found a way to evac the injured Concorde and loaded him into Skyfire's hold.
Just like that, Hot Spot found himself alone at the crash site as the various mechs either disappeared into Skyfire's hold or flew off.
Fighting back the urge to cycle air through his vents, the Protectobot settled into his alt mode and headed back to the Ark. He was mobbed by the remainder of his gestalt the moment he returned. They were inordinately proud to hear one of their own was needed to come to the aid of the uppity jets; a sentiment he did not share.
"No, it wasn't like that. An Autobot was in trouble, as simple as that," Hot Spot pointed out, much to Blade's consternation.
"See, that's the problem with jets, they can't even fly without falling out of the sky," the helicopter gloated with a superior look.
"Enough. Whether you like them or not, the Aerialbots are our allies and you will treat them with respect," the Protectobot commander grumbled while pinning Blades with a hard look. "We are better than that. Do no shame the gestalt by saying that kind of slag, Blades. You're better than that or Slingshot or anyone's pettiness."
The fire truck clapped a hand on his brother's shoulder in passing. "Now, I'm going to get cleaned up, get some energon and check on 'Aid. Call me if you need me."
With that, he headed to the washracks and proceeded to scrub away all the organic pond scum from his chassis. Normally, Hot Spot didn't mind organic goo but there was something singularly disgusting about feeling it squeal about in his gears that gave him the heebie-jeebies.
After scrubbing away the last of that scum from his chassis, Hot Spot paused only long enough to gulp down a cube of mid-grade from the commissary before heading down to med bay.
There, he was unsurprised to find the Aerialbots gathered in clumps of misery in the waiting area outside of medical. "Do you mind if I wait with you?" he entreated quietly.
"Go away, groundpounder. We do not want or need you here," Slingshot piped up bitterly.
"Shut up," the words were nearly inaudible from Fireflight.
"What did you say, 'Flight?" the Harrier asked, disbelieving his audios.
"I said 'Shut up', Slingshot!" Fireflight pulled away from Skydive and gifted his brother with a surprisingly angry look. "Just shut up, for frags sake! Hot Spot helped save Silverbolt and has just as much right to be here as any of us!"
Visibly taken aback, Slingshot recoiled from the Phantom's angry words before his typical belligerent sub-routines overrode his emotional protocols. "He's not one of us, 'Flight! He's a fragging groundpounder!"
"I don't care if he's a slagging Decepticon! If he wants to wait here, he can and if you don't like it, there's the slagging door."
Unease crawled amongst the four Aerialbots and Hot Spot cleared his vocalizer uncomfortably. "I don't want to upset you, I can just go-"
"No. Stay here, I want you here, we all do, right?" Fireflight glanced at his brother's expectantly and received uncomfortably nods of assent from all save Slingshot who was looking decidedly mutinous.
"Would you all quiet the slag down out there! Mechs are trying to work in here!" Ratchet's querulous roar carried all the way through the med-bay doors and effectively shut them all up.
Meekly, Fireflight patted the seat next to himself. Hot Spot silently made his away across the room and sat down where offered. The Phantom immediately looped one arm through the Protectobot's and snuggled between Hot Spot and Skydive more firmly as though marking his territory.
Slingshot settled into a sulky silence but didn't voice any more complaints.
After what felt like a vorn of waiting, Ratchet and First Aid finally slipped out of the med-bay to give the good news to the gathered mechs.
"He's going to be alright," Ratchet stated without preamble and watched silently as the four jets and one Protectobot perked up visibly. "He'll be grounded for a week or so while we fabricate new parts but he'll make a full recovery.
"Can we see him?" Fireflight asked hopefully.
"He's still out but when he comes online, First Aid will let you know and you can come in two at a time and talk to him. I don't want you overtaxing him, alright?" This was said with the patented Ratchet Glare o' Doom. "And after that, you're to all get some recharge. With Superion down for the count, we need you as rested as possible in case something happens, alright?"
The CMO received a chorus of 'Yes, Ratchet's from the young mechs and gave a satisfied nod to his protégé. "If anything comes up, I want you to comm me, immediately. No cowboy stuff," The gruff medic instructed and clasped First Aid on the shoulders with rough affection.
First Aid's optic band brightened fractionally as he nodded. "Of course, Ratchet. I'll watch over them,"
"Good, I'll see you later." And with that, he reluctantly relinquished command of medical to the Protectobot and tiredly set off in search of his berth for some much needed recharge.
"Wait...he's leaving the medic wannabe in charge of 'Bolt?" Slingshot immediately protested.
The so-called 'medic wannabe' stiffened with building outrage.
"Okay, that's enough." Hot Spot climbed to his feet and gifted the argumentative Aerialbot with a cool look. "We're going to get energon for everyone."
"Frag off, you're not my commander," the Harrier grumbled rebelliously.
"Yes, but I am your superior officer and you will come with me and help get some energon for everyone," the fire truck continued, unperturbed, without breaking stride but the 'Or else' hung ominously between them.
"I could go with you?" Air Raid offered desperately in hopes of averting a situation.
"Slingshot will do." And with that, the Protectobot commander smartly turned on his heel and headed towards the commissary.
He did not miss the hissed conversation behind him.
"Go with him!" Air Raid hissed.
"That overgrown garden hose on four wheels can suck my exhaust pipe if he thinks I'm following his orders," Slingshot snarled.
"No, it's going to be Silverbolt who is going to catch the slag for you mouthing off and I'll be damned if I let you get him into trouble after today so just go with him and keep your mouth welded!" Skydive snarled angrily. "Just do it and try to keep from slagging him off anymore any more than he already is.
"Slings...please?"
"Slaggit, I'm not talking with the fragger." And with that, the petulant Harrier stalked after Hot Spot and quickly outpaced the Protectobot.
Hot Spot just wisely bided his time and waited for Slingshot to make the first move.
"I'm not apologizing to you or that Ratchet wannabe."
"That's fine, First Aid doesn't need me to fight his battles for him," Hot Spot agreed readily enough. "Besides, I know Ratchet and there's no way he would have left Silverbolt if he didn't have complete confidence in 'Aid's skills. I just thought you might want a break from all this waiting."
The Aerialbot shot him a suspicious look. He'd been expecting barked reprimands or demands for him to apologize, not this!
"I hate waiting myself. Makes me antsy so I figure this is as good an excuse to do something as any. Besides, I'm sure your brothers are hungry and maybe this will help take their minds off of Silverbolt."
"Maybe," Slingshot grunted and settled into another tense silence.
"I'm sorry about your brother, you know." Hot Spot carefully tried to keep the dialogue going. "Silverbolt is a good mech."
"Hmph...it's his own stupid fault."
"What do you mean?" Hot Spot asked with open surprise.
"He froze up and crashed. It's fragging pathetic. A jet that is afraid of flying?" Beneath the disgust, there was a note of concern in the prickly Harrier's voice.
"It could have been anything," the Protectobot tried to rally for Silverbolt and received a venomous glare over on shoulder from the jet.
"I felt it. We all did." Pain filled Slingshot's tone as he tried to deflect that anger onto Hot Spot.
"I'm sorry."
"Not your slagging problem."
"I know, but I'm sorry you all had to feel that over the gestalt bond. It kills me every time one of my brothers gets hurt, so I sympathize. Especially considering how gravely injured Silverbolt is. You're entitled to feel upset about it, Slingshot."
"...whatever," the grumpy Harrier muttered as they reached the commissary and began to grab energon cubes for the others.
Hot Spot decided to let things go for now rather than risk pushing the jet too far. He silently assisted the Harrier with pouring and storing of cubes and they set out back to the med bay.
When they got there, Skydive informed them Silverbolt was online again and that Air Raid and Fireflight were inside talking to their brother.
"Right, we'll give them some time. Here you go, Air Raid." Hot Spot offered one of the cubes to the Aerialbot who accepted it with a faint smile.
Not to be outdone by the Protectobot, Slingshot shoved another cube at his startled brother.
"Er...thank you, Slings." Skydive settled it next to him and the trio settled into an uneasy silence that was only broken when Air Raid and Fireflight stepped out of the medbay doors.
Fireflight was beaming; something Hot Spot took to mean was good news. When his own brother slipped outside, the fire truck handed First Aid a cube of his own. "So, everything okay?"
The junior medic nodded happily. "Slingshot? You and Skydive can go in now. And you two..." With a decent impression of Ratchet's authoritative tone, he pinned the other two Aerialbots with a look. "It's time you hit the berth, alright?"
"Yes, First Aid." the Phantom and Falcon collected a couple of cubes for themselves and headed towards the 'Aerie' as they'd taken to calling their hanger.
"See you later, Hot Spot!" Fireflight called over his shoulder with a sweet smile for the fire truck.
"Good night, Fireflight." Hot Spot called and tried to ignore the chilly air radiating from the Harrier.
"Come on; let's see 'Bolt." With that, Slingshot tugged Skydive into medical.
"...making friends, I see," First Aid murmured blandly.
Hot Spot glanced suspiciously at his brother. "He's a good kid."
"Need I point out they were brought online before us?" the ambulance said ironically.
"You get my point," Hot Spot muttered a little defensively.
"Just be careful, Hot Spot. Those jets don't take to outsiders easily," his brother pointed out with fond concern.
"I know, and I intend on changing that," the fire truck said with a stubbornness First Aid was all too familiar with.
Knowing better than to try and dissuade his commander, First Aid just hmm'd thoughtfully and excused himself so he could monitor the Aerialbots.
Left once again to his own devices, Hot Spot settled onto one of the benches and patiently waited for the jets to finish talking with their brother. A few breems later, they came out less happily than the previous set of jets. Slingshot's mutinous expression spoke volumes but it was the barely leashed irritation on the normally calm and even-keeled Skydive's faceplates was more than a little surprising. For once in his life, better senses won out over the instantaneous need to spring into action and Hot Spot wisely kept his trap shut.
Thankfully, the two obviously fighting jets didn't seem to notice him and he vented a sigh of relief when they disappeared from view.
"Are you waiting for me, Hots? Because I'm on shift for the rest of the night?" First Aid asked, poking his head out of the doorway.
"No, I'm waiting to talk to Silverbolt."
"Hmmm...try and keep it brief? He really needs the recharge." But the ambulance did obligingly hold the door open so his brother could slip inside. The Concorde was the only patient currently and was set up closest to the little office the medical staff and the other engineers used for breaks and occasional snatches of recharge when needed. "Silverbolt? Are you up for one more visitor?"
The Concorde powered up his optics when First Aid addressed him. Exhaustion radiated from the tall jet as he looked at the junior medic. "Another one? I don't know..." That was when he lifted his head and caught sight of Hot Spot walking towards his berth. "Uh...yeah. I'd like to talk with him, if it's okay with you?"
It was hard to judge the ambulance's expression with the battlemask but First Aid did a decent enough job of expressing his concern all the same.
"We'll only be a few minutes, 'Aid." Hot Spot sought to reassure his brother.
"Very well, just a few minutes..." With that, he withdrew into the office to grant the two mech's some privacy.
"Fireflight tells me I have you to thank for my life," Silverbolt stated quietly.
"I think he's exaggerating a little honestly," Hot Spot disagreed with a laugh. "All I did was give a few coordinates and do some heavy lifting."
"Still, I'm in your debt all the same." One of Silverbolt's hands lifted off the berth and reached out to Hot Spot. The Protectobot caught that hand in both of his and squeezed the Concorde's fingers gently.
"It's nothing, you would have done the same for me."
Nodding his head, the jet offered a wan smile. "And my brothers are quite taken with you, especially Fireflight. They don't generally warm up to mechs so quickly."
Hot Spot rubbed the back of his head with a self-effacing laugh. "They're good kids, Silverbolt. Even Slingshot who'd probably chew my arm off rather than admit I was right."
Regret flickered across the Concorde's faceplates. "Slingshot can be...difficult. I'm sorry if he caused you any problems."
"Nah, he was fine, don't worry about it," he reached out to hold Silverbolt's hand once more. "Are you okay, Silverbolt?"
"You mean aside from being stuck in medbay?" the Concorde asked more than a little ironically.
"Yeah, Slingshot...he mentioned the reason you crashed was because you got scared and I guess your engines seized up?"
Beneath his fingers, Hot Spot felt Silverbolt's hand curl into a tight and trembling fist.
"It's nothing to be ashamed of, Silverbolt."
"Slingshot should learn to keep his mouth shut." Ashamed, the jet turned his head away from the concerned Protectobot.
"Have you spoken to Smokescreen about it?"
"No one knows outside of my team and Optimus. Heh, and now you I suppose."
"Hey, listen to me, Sil. Being afraid of flying isn't something you can help. Nor is it something you should be ashamed of." The pet name slipped out without him realizing it but it seemed to garner the moody Aerialbot's attention because Silverbolt turned his face back to the other mech.
"It's pathetic. A jet being afraid of heights and being terrified of flying would be like you being terrified of fire," the Concorde spat, self-recrimination all but dripping from his voice.
"Who says I'm not afraid of fire?" Hot Spot asked gently. "I'm as scared of getting trapped or burned as much as the next mech. I just don't let that fear control me."
"Don't condescend to me. I know the one thing you're not lacking is bravery."
"Neither are you." Finally, heat weaved its way through the Protectobot's tone. "You're anything but a coward, Silverbolt. Frag, the fact that you go up there into the sky despite being terrified of it is proof enough in my book. And don't you let anyone tell you different, especially Slingshot."
Wariness and a wealth of hurt echoed in the Concorde's optics as he silently studied Hot Spot. This was a mech who'd been self-reliant since the moment he'd come online. It was hard hearing someone else defend his character and it made Silverbolt feel as low as a turborat.
"Sil, I'm serious. You are an amazingly brave mech for doing what you do despite the fear. I just wish you could see that for yourself. But more importantly, you need to talk with Smokescreen. You can't afford to freeze up in the middle of battle." Hot Spot stroked his thumb along the top of Silverbolt's hand tenderly. "That would just put yourself and your brothers at risk. And..."
He stopped, hesitating because he did not want to overstep his boundaries. "Besides, if you don't want to talk to Smokescreen, talk to me."
"Huh?"
"I mean it, I'll happily lend my audio and promise, nothing you say will ever be repeated. Not amongst my brothers or yours." Hot Shot smiled beneath his battlemask and did his best to radiate a friendly air.
"I...I would like that," Silverbolt admitted carefully. "But...not tonight. Soon though?"
"It's a date."